


by your side

by Fatale (femme)



Series: happy malec ficlets [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: It honestly never occurs to Alec to wonder if warlocks get sick until he hears Magnus sneeze.





	by your side

**Author's Note:**

> if you know where the quote is from, please let me know.
> 
> written for @theaverycross, who gave me: Malec + cold

 

 

 

 

 

It honestly never occurs to Alec to wonder if warlocks get sick until he hears Magnus sneeze.  
  
Alec's pouring himself a cup of coffee when Magnus sneezes again and all the lights flicker out for a brief moment, then back on. Alec sets his coffee down on the counter, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Are you okay?" Alec calls out, heading towards Magnus' office.  
  
"Oh, sure," Magnus says breezily, leaning over an open book with yellowed, foxed pages. "I don't get sick."  
  
"I honestly hadn't thought you could," Alec confesses. In all the time that he's known Magnus, even for the brief time he was without magic, there was always something larger than life about him.  
  
He's magic, exciting, immortal. But even as a mundane, he made Alec's heart beat faster.  
  
For as long as Alec will be alive, Magnus will be there, a fixed point in Alec's life to focus and pour his love. And after Alec's gone, Magnus will still be there, taking care of the shadow world. There's something comforting and beautiful about it.  
  
Alec reaches back and runs his hand over the back of Magnus' neck, which only feels slightly warmer than usual. Magnus sighs into the touch, closing his book. It looks ancient; it's still probably younger than Magnus.  
  
"Warlocks can certainly get sick, but with all our potions for health, we simply don't," Magnus says, leaning back into Alec's warmth like always. The pen clatters out of his hands and rolls off the side of his desk. He closes his eyes and his whole body leans into Alec like a plant growing towards the sun.  
  
"If you're sure," Alec says doubtfully and presses a kiss to the side of Magnus' smiling mouth before grabbing his coffee and heading to work.  
  
  
Later that day, Alec finishes up early, puts Izzy in charge of collecting the evening patrol debriefings and hurries home.  
  
When he steps through the front door, he's surprised to see a mug on the entry table. He presses the back of his hand to it, feeling lingering warmth. "Magnus?" Alec asks. "I'm home."  
  
Though Alec never officially moved in, this is more home for him than the Institute ever was. His home is wherever Magnus is. Alec kicks off his shoes next to the couch and searches the loft, coming up empty. There's a mess in the kitchen, including a bright smear on the wall that Alec is pretty sure tried and failed to be vegetable soup. Magnus' office looks the same as it did earlier in the morning.  
  
Finally, he heads towards the bedroom, pushing through the door and sees a large lump huddled beneath the covers. Crumpled kleenexes are piled on the comforter, the floor, and everywhere around a tiny wastebasket that Alec has never seen before.  
  
"Alexander," the lump moans, "Go back to the Institute. Save yourself." A sneeze follows and the walls change color. Alec studies the paint, unsure how he feels about the deep, royal blue. It clashes terribly with the orange curtains, which Alec is pretty sure were red earlier. "I don't want you to see me this way. Go, go, and remember me fondly."  
  
"Are you always this dramatic when you get sick?" Alec asks, unimpressed. "Come out of there, I hate talking to your bedsheets."  
  
"I'm not sick," Magnus insists, managing to sound a little pathetic and incredibly indignant all at once. The lump shudders angrily.  
  
"Have you eaten anything?" Alec asks, exasperated.  
  
The lump makes a sad noise. "I might have tried to make something earlier."  
  
"With magic?"  
  
There's a sad-sounding cough. "I'm not going to lie – it did not go as planned."  
  
"I see," Alec says evenly. That explains how the carrots got into the light fixtures. "Will you please come out of there?"  
  
"You're not going to go away and leave me to expire in my own peculiar miserable juices, are you?"  
  
"No," Alec says stubbornly.  
  
"Fine," Magnus huffs and throws back the covers. His eyeliner is smeared, his nose is red. He looks pale and tinged slightly green. "Are you happy?" Magnus says waspishly, staring at Alec through one rheumy eye.  
  
"Not right this minute, no," Alec says honestly. He presses the back of his hand against Magnus' forehead. It's hot, feverish. "I'm going to make you something to eat."  
  
"I can do it myself." He makes an aborted move to get up and only succeeds in rolling about two inches. "You're going to have to give me a minute."  
  
Alec eyes the blue walls warily. "Sure, takes all the time you need, but just let me do this for you, okay?"  
  
Magnus looks over at each limp arm sadly, then nods. He coughs again and wiggles back beneath the mound of covers.  
  
Alec gives the lump a reassuring little pat and goes to the kitchen. He scans the contents of the refrigerator, thinking. There's stock, some chicken and noodles. He can throw together a simple soup.  
  
Alec pulls out the chopping board, grabs a knife and cuts up some celery, onions. While the vegetables are cooking and the chicken is boiling, Alec scans the kitchen and grabs a washcloth to wipe down the wall while the soup simmers on the stove. He gets a chair and carefully removes the carrots from the lights.  
  
When he's done cleaning, Alec drains and chops the chicken, adds the cooked noodles and gives the soup a stir. He turns off the heat and ladles a bit of it into a bowl, grabs a tray, a glass of water, and carries it back into the bedroom.  
  
Magnus has emerged from his little den of misery, clearly freshly showered, hair dripping, and face bare. He's wearing a pair of plain cotton pants, sitting on the side of the bed. Out of everything, this is what worries Alec the most. Alec's never seen him in anything that wasn't luxurious and beautifully made. This looks like something Alec would wear to train in. Most of his workout clothes come in plastic bags, which Manus maintains is one of Alec's most tragic flaws.  
  
Magnus is decidedly missing some pizazz.  
  
"Smells good," Magnus says, sounding irritatingly surprised. Despite what everyone says, Alec can cook perfectly fine. Everyone else is wrong, _not_ him. Magnus' voice is voice scratchy, dark eyes fever-bright.  
  
Sometimes Alec catalogs things without knowing that he's doing it, and the thought that's been tugging at him, a low simmer in the back of his mind since he found Magnus in bed, jumps up to the forefront, ready to boil over.  
  
Alec says, "Why are your eyes glamoured? Every time you sneeze, the walls change colors, but your eyes are still dark."  
  
"Ah," Magnus says, scooting back in bed and leaning back against the pillows piled high against the headboard. Alec sets the tray on his lap and slides into bed next to him.  
  
He's seen Magnus' real eyes many times, of course. Magnus rarely bothers to keep the glamour in place during intimate moments. It's too much effort and he's usually far more interested in concentrating on other things, but this--  
  
This is a whole new level of intimacy. It takes a lot more trust to let someone see you at your worst than at your best.  
  
"You don't have to keep it up for me," Alec says.  
  
"I know that," Magnus replies. He takes a tentative bite of soup. "Perfection," Magnus sighs, eyes sliding closed.  
  
"I can make soup, Magnus," Alec says peevishly. "It's just stock and other little floaty bits."  
  
Magnus chuckles nervously but keeps eating,  
  
"If you want to keep your eyes glamoured, fine. But just so you know, you don't have to pretend. Not with me."  
  
Magnus drops his spoon and it clatters noisily to the tray. Alec waits for him to sneeze but nothing comes.  
  
Magnus takes a deep breath, awkwardly picks his spoon back up, then dips his spoon into the bowl and takes another bite. When he finishes and looks over at Alec appreciatively, his eyes are a warm, honey gold.

He sets the tray aside and promptly sneezes. Alec prepares himself for the ceiling to cave in but nothing changes.  
  
"It was taking all my concentration to leave the glamour up," Magnus admits, blowing his nose loudly. Some of the tissue is still stuck to the tip of his nose.  
  
Alec stretches out on the bed, and Magnus scoots into his arms.  
  
"I have a confession," Magnus says after a few minutes and Alec mentally braces himself for the worst. When it comes, it sounds as if it's been pulled from him by a dozen red-faced sweaty bodybuilders. "I might be little sick."  
  
"Oh, you think?" Alec asks, handing him a box of kleenexes. Magnus blows his nose loudly again, inelegantly. It sounds not unlike a flock of angry geese. Magnus listlessly drops the tissue over the side of the bed, just shy of the trash can. "Just out of curiosity, what brought on this confession?"  
  
He feels Magnus go tense for a moment, then relax slowly against him, letting Alec hold him up. "You said I don't have to pretend."  
  
Alec presses a kiss against the side of Magnus' neck, all sweaty and gross, and so achingly vulnerable. "You still want me to leave?" he asks quietly.  
  
"No—if you want to, that is. Stay. Please," Magnus says. His hands grip the front of Alec's shirt. "Please stay."  
  
Alec settles back into the pillows.  
  
Magnus is curled up next to him, lips chapped and pale, nose raw, hair damp and soft. It's not the Magnus that Alec's used to, but he finds he loves this version just as well. Magnus is with him, _really with him_.  
  
And Alec, he stays.


End file.
